


behold the brave battalion that stands side by side

by plinys



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cute Little Kids Playing MakeBelieve, F/F, FemTrope Bingo, Femslash February, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shireen sneaks off to the garden's to read her book, she accidentally bumps into another young girl looking for a lost cat (or something like that, she's quite vague on whether the cat is actually her's or if it belongs to her "dancing instructor").</p>
            </blockquote>





	behold the brave battalion that stands side by side

**Author's Note:**

> So essentially this ignores like all canon and functions under the idea that Stannis (and co) remained at King's Landing just long enough to overlap a few days with the Starks arrival, before skipping out back to Dragonstone. 
> 
> Also my FemTrope Bingo card had a KidFic box, which I guess is when I "de-age" characters to being kids and have them meet, but I was having a lot of Shireen feels and I wanted to write something about her, and idk man Arya slipped into the story and this is what happened. 
> 
> I'm still counting it as KidFic, cause they're kids for the majority of it.

Her septa tells her that one day she will be a fine lady, and that she ought to keep her heads up, backs straight and work on needle point or things of that nature, the things that sophisticated ladies worked on.

She was to have manner and grace, since she so clearly lacked in every other element.

Shireen was told all too often that she ought not be slinking off to the gardens with her nose in a book.

“You should be more like your cousin,” the septa said, “look how pretty the princess is.”

And later as Shireen stands before her mirror, looking at the distorted reflection of her face, she will wonder if that would make this all so much easier, if she was as pretty as her golden cousin.

In the end she turns away, tugs another book off the shelf and skips out of her lessons before the Septa can find her, she fears disappointing her father, fears that he will send her and her mother back to Dragonstone all too soon, though she wonders often if that wouldn’t be too bad. At least, then she would have Patchface to play with, instead of the girls of the court, who turn their noses up at her.

There had already been talk of heading back, her mother had mentioned that it would only be a matter of a few days more and had almost seemed relieved at the notion.

Shireen was so caught up in her worries of whether or not they would be heading home soon that she forgets to watch where she’s walking, something she’s been admonished for many times before, always keeping her head in the clouds is what their Maester says.

That’s why she doesn’t notice the person walking towards her until they collide, Shireen letting out a very unladylike “oof” as the breath is knocked out of her, but it the other girl who falls to the ground.

At first, she thinks it might be one of the stable boys, for the person whom she’s bumped into has dirt all over her face, but there’s something familiar there, somebody she had been introduced to before while she hid behind her mother’s skirts. When she smiles and brushes herself off taking Shireen’s hurriedly offered hand and quick apologies as if them bumping into each other was nothing at all.

“It’s okay,” the other girl says with a wide smile, “probably my fault, I was following this cat, but then-“

“You lost your cat,” Shireen asks suddenly worried, “oh no, did you lose him because I bumped into you?”

“He’s not my cat, not really,” she admits, “Master Syrio told me to catch him though.”

“Master Syrio?”

“He’s my dancing instructor.”

“I always skip my dancing lessons,” Shireen admits,

“Well, mine aren’t really dancing lessons,” she smirks, taking a look around them before gesturing Shireen close so that she can whisper words only they can hear, “They’re actually sword lessons.”

“Sword lessons,” Shireen repeats with wonder, oh the idea seems almost silly, a young lady learning how to wield a sword like a man, and yet, it is so fascinating, like the stories she’s read it her books of the warrior queens and dragon riders. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Really,” the other girl says, surprised to see somebody sharing her feelings about sword fights, “you know, I could show you a few things if you like?”

“I don’t think,” Shireen starts, biting her lip, her father would certainly never approve of this, but he didn’t approve of her skipping her lessons either, and if she was already going to get in trouble. “We don’t have any swords.”

She seems to ponder that as well for a moment, before making a noise of triumph, “we could uses sticks,” she says and when noticing Shireen’s skeptical looks continues, “me and my brothers used to do it all the time! Come on!”

At that she grabs onto Shireen’s hand and tugs them off towards some of the trees gathered around the garden searching for sticks that were of the right weight and caliber, something that the other girl seemed to know quite a lot of, if the information she was rattling off to Shireen was any indicator.

Eventually they settle on two sticks that seem about right by the other girl’s reasoning.

They start with her teaching Shireen the basics, how to hold the sword and the basic rules, “stick ‘em with the pointy end,” she declares as if it is as simple as that, before moving about to teach her the proper holds and stances, information that Shireen picks up with ease, good enough that after a few goes she declares that Shireen knows enough for them to play properly.

That’s how they are found hours later by their father’s, standing under the very same tree as they play make believe, fighting off invisible hoards of mountain men and invaders. There’s a story to go along with it, where Shireen is a beautiful queen kidnapped by bandits and fighting her way free, where her friend is a lady knight of the Queen’s Guard come to save her lady’s honor. A story that sounds completely silly as she mumbles through explaining what had been going on to her father and the Hand, though it sounds much better as her newfound friend adds embellishment to the tale.

“Arya, that’s enough,” the other girl’s father says, before turning to Shireen’s father, “I’m sorry about all this, it was no doubt Arya’s idea, she’s irresponsible at times.”

Her own father makes some gruff noise of agreement, “I certainly couldn’t see how this could have been Shireen’s idea.”

Shireen looks down at her shoes at that, ready to open her mouth and apologize when Arya speaks up instead, “forgive me, my lady,” she says with a dramatic bow to Shireen, before grabbing her hand as a knight might take the princess’s hand and brings it to her lips, “it was never my intention to drag you off into danger.”

Shireen cannot find how to reply to that, but doesn’t end up having to, because the Hand has moved onto lecturing his daughter again and Shireen is shepherded off by her own father, without having so much time as to say goodbye. She supposes that she shouldn’t be surprised when her family returns to Dragonstone two days later.   

In the events that follow her return to Dragonstone, she never really forgets about the girl she met in the gardens, one of the few friends she’s had if she didn’t count Patchface. There was Devan and Edric after that, but they were boys, they didn’t understand, not in the way Arya had.

Once when Shireen had been feeling particularly bold she had asked her father if he heard word of what happened to Arya in the mess at King’s Landing, when he had simply replied that the girl was believed to have died, she struggled to bite back tears. Later in her tower room she rubbed at her eyes and wondered why that day had mattered so much to her, why she wept for a girl that she had barely met.

She stands in her room picking up a stick she gathered from their own gardens, trying to remember the grips she had learned with Arya, practices them with letter openers as she grows older and bolder, a war waging on outside her window that she remains sheltered from.

Shireen reasons that she ought to know how to protect herself, just in case.

When the opportunity arises, now a young woman grown, as enemies of her father break into her chambers intending to kill her, she drives her letter opener into the man’s chest in the way Arya had taught her all those years ago in the gardens. Then steals the sword of the fallen man and protects herself in a way she opens would make the girl lost those years ago proud.

And after all is said and done, her father long passed, his men having railed behind her and placed their rightful queen on the throne of Westros, she keeps a sword of her own around her waist during her coronation and is called a warrior queen among the men. Her head titled up high in memory of those lost to get her there.

What she does not expect is the guest that arrives one lonely day, coming up among the common people who present their problems to their queen. At first, she thinks that he is a knight or a warrior much weathered in battle, with short brown hair cropped around his ears, scars under his eyes, but as Shireen takes a second look she realizes the familiarity in the grin.

“Lady Arya, we thought you dead,” she announces to the shock and surprise of her entire court, and watches at the woman’s face lights up at her comments.

“I’m too stubborn for that,” Arya replies without pause, “though I was wondering if you might have an opening in your Queen’s Guard?”

 

 

 


End file.
